


Lay Your Burden Down

by AceQueenKing



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Incest, Brother/Sister Incest, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Not-So-Accidental Incest, Time Skips - Original Trilogy to Sequel Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13464828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: Their entire relationship has been based on sharing; from the battlefield to the bedroom, they have always carried one another's burdens.Obi-Wan's revelation about their shared blood doesn't change that, even though it should.





	1. Circa A New Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotebookishType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotebookishType/gifts).



Biggs had told Luke lots of things about girls: that they would like it if he flirted with them, if he pretended to be something he wasn’t,  _ anything  _ he wasn’t - a pilot, a navigator, even a bantha breeder. Biggs told him to smile, to never admit his true feelings; to kiss and not tell, to leave with little more than a physical exchange. It’s easy, Biggs had told him; it hasn’t felt easy. Nothing with making friends or - well, more than friends - ever feels  _ easy _ .  

Except for Leia. Leia smiles and in doing so takes all of Bigg’s rules and throws them over her shoulder; in that smile, he knows he will die for her and that - as they say - is  _ that _ .

One moment they’re celebrating the end of the Death Star, the next mourning the death of their friends. Time shifts between their emotions; Leia is strong but not so strong that he does’t see and feel her falter, and now that he’s had time to realize that Ben and Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen and Biggs -  _ Biggs _ \- are gone - it’s hard to know which, and it’s a lot of both. 

But his attention lands fully on her when she grabs him by the arm and, softly, says, “Come on.” 

He follows, of course.  How could he not follow a princess? It feels a little like one of Aunt Beru’s old neriad tales, though none of them had ever ended up with him shoved onto a bed in the abandoned pilot’s quarters, as Leia locks the door behind him. He always thought he would be nervous but he isn't -- not really. Leia guides him down and climbs on top of him, her legs over his, and it doesn't feel awkward at all. It feels, he thinks, like coming home; Leia is soft and warm and patient and sweet and he wants nothing more than to bury himself and all his sorrows and all his joys in her.

She cups his cheek and leans down, kisses him.

He strokes her hair.  She sits up and smiles but he sees something else behind it: discomfort, sadness.

"Hey," he says, cupping her cheek. "We don't have to do this. Not now."

She stares down at him and he sucks in a harsh breath.  The princess is by far the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he wants nothing more than to bask in her presence. "Not ever,” he says, “if you don't want to. Don't do this if you feel - obligated. I don't want you to -"

"Luke.  _ Shut up _ ," she says, jabbing her finger over his mouth for emphasis. 

He stares up at her, eager to please and too timid to dare to open his mouth again.  She arches a brow and sighs and he tries not to feel crushed. Message received. He swallows, opens his mouth, is ready to say i _ t's OK, another time, just let me hit the fresher to get rid of this _ , when she moves her other hand and rubs his straining cock through the thin fabric of the only pants he owns. 

" _ Guh _ ," he says, intelligently. Biggs, he thinks, would be so disappointed. Then he remembers what happened to Biggs, and swallows, and tries very hard not to think of him at all.

He surrenders himself instead to Leia, to her light fingertips slowly rubbing him through his pants. Somehow, it feels so much better when its a soft feminine hand instead of his own. She rolls her thumb oh so slowly across the head of his cock and even through the fabric he strains hard not to come. 

  
"I like you," Leia says, her cheeks pink. "A lot."

"L-like you, too," he says, breaking Biggs #2 rule:  _ don't get emotional _ . "Leia-"

"But I can't promise anything. We're in a war, Luke. I can't commit to anything. We've both just lost so much..." She bites her lip, and he reaches a shaky hand to cup her cheek. 

"It's OK," he says, then, stupidly, because he isn’t sure how to say it: "Do you want to uh...."

The thought dies as Leia shakes her head.  "I want you, Luke. Just - can we just have tonight? You and me taking comfort any way we can?" She rolls her hips and smiles, the sadness buried behind her eyes. "I don't want to dream tonight." 

"I can do that," he murmurs; his own cheeks feel bright pink. Maybe that's why she picked him and not Han; she knows Luke will give her everything he can, again and again, and again, and he wouldn't dare to ask anything in return. Han wouldn't shut up about it and Luke can keep secrets and kriff, why is he thinking about  _ Han  _ when Leia is  _ Right Here _ , perfect and waiting for him.

He shifts upward, cupping her cheek and kissing her with all the limited expertise he can muster. 

"I haven't done this before," he confesses between kisses; Leia's hands glide down his belt, fumbling to unhook it. 

"Neither have I," she murmurs before hesitantly separating from him. "Luke get those off, please? I-"

"On it," he says, jumping up and eagerly throwing off his jacket and shirt. He's ready, he's so _doshing_ ready. He sees a silken white gown whiz by his head and oh,  _ stars _ , his head feels like he's swimming as his fingers fly across his belt buckle, releasing the clap as he pulls down his pants.

"You're beautiful," he hears and looks up. Leia is sitting on the edge of the bed, her stunning, perfect, gorgeous self, looking every bit as regal as a queen.

She leans back, wagging a finger, and he shyly climbs into bed with her.

He'd used to memorize some of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru’s more racy holovids;  always thought if he could just remember the right places to put his arms and legs that he could fake technique he just doesn't have. 

But it doesn't matter.

They fumble, yes - Leia's hands are shaky as she unwraps a condom, and he fumbles trying to get it on, but it’s not awkward at all. They laugh jubilantly when they figure it out, and Luke can't stop grinning as Leia swings her legs back around him and tries to bring them together.  

That, too, takes a couple tries - and he thought this would be the easy part! - but eventually they get it, and he knows they have it right by the soft slippery slick feel of her taking him whole, tight and warm and so, so good. 

Her mouth lays open in a small, stunned O. It’s the most attractive thing he's ever seen and he knows he will never forget it.

"Kriff!" he murmurs, hungry hands going to her sides. He's never wanted anything more than this, than her, to stay with her, to stay joined forever, to feel nothing but the slick, sweet heat of her. 

His instincts take hold, moving in a rhythm as old as time.  They still make mistakes - he slides out twice, she has to show him where to find her clit  - but they get better at it. By the second go around, he makes her shudder before she makes him, and by the third neither of them stumbles with changing a condom.

It takes them all night, but by the time he slumps against her, wholly spent, he does not dream of burning bodies and red lightsabers and hot pulsing star fire. Somehow, without asking, he knows Leia doesn't dream of a dead planet and dead family and all that they have lost. 

"Thank you," she says between hot kisses in the morning, and then she's gone, with only the memories of the night before that remain. She doesn’t acknowledge that it happened the next morning and he doesn't take offense; he knows that for both of them, it is simply part of moving on. 


	2. Circa Empire Strikes Back

Luke stares at the wall, so shell-shocked that he hardly seems to notice when Leia slides into one of the  _ Falcon's _ few beds next to him. That scares her more than she'd like to admit; she doesn't know what Vader did to Luke, but she hates him for it. He's made it all too clear how willing he is to take  _ everything  _ she holds dear away from her, and Leia is so,  _ so  _ thankful he didn't somehow get Luke.

"Hey," Leia murmurs; Luke’s eerie blue eyes snap to her, looking at her or through her. She isn't sure which. She runs a hand through his soft blond hair, trying to reassure both herself and him that he is here, that he is okay. He lets her and her heart aches. Luke is such a sweetheart; always there for her. She loves him, just as much as Han, even if the two couldn't be more different. 

Luke reaches out feebly with his new hand; Leia catches it, curling the synth skin fingers against her own. _ You're still here, _ she thinks, wills him to hear her thoughts somehow.  _ You survived. We survived.   _

"You ok?" he asks hoarsely. His voice sounds like he has been to hell and back; he's been in another world since they left Bespin, on some different plane and it scares her - but now, typical Luke, focuses on her and making sure she is OK.

"Better than you," she says, turning the focus back to him. It's funny, she thinks, how often their losses occur together; Luke loses a hand, she loses a Han. It's some kind of cosmic joke, she thinks; and it’s  _ not  _ very funny. 

"I'll live," he says, and opens his arms. She climbs between them and he wraps his arms around her tightly as she does the same to him. One arm moves to pet her hair and Leia feels her heart just break.

"I'm glad you came back," Leia murmurs. Luke is thinner than Han but reassuringly warm, and she closes her eyes and buries herself in his smell, like sunlight and leather and bacta. "Missed you a lot." 

"Missed you, too," he says.  Leia doesn't miss the way he smiles, the way he feels like home.  Luke's smiles are as dazzling as the sun and warms her through her core. She couldn’t feel worse now, with Han gone and her heart broken into shards, but here’s Luke, sharing her burden.

And somehow that does make it lighter. 

She places her head on his chest and Luke's heart beats fast. She loves this about him, how he feels like home, like safety; his heart is a reminder that he lives, that he loves, that they are still here. She looks up and her eyes meet his blue ones.

"What did I miss?" he asks quietly, hands still playing with her hair.  She sucks in a harsh breath, hadn't wanted the topic to come up so quickly. She never meant to hurt Luke but Han is  _ special _ , and she hadn’t been able to hide it from him, not at the end. But how, how can she tell him this? 

But while she’s still trying to find the right words, Luke smiles again and looks at her like he's pleased.  "You and Han  _ finally  _ got together, huh?"

_ Perceptive as always _ , she thinks. 

"We're not dating or anything but… I told him I loved him," she murmurs into his chest and he nods. 

"About time," he says, laughing. There's sorrow in his voice but gladness, too, and she play-shoves him. 

"He said _ I know _ ."  She should say more, but she can't, not yet. She should tell Luke about the carbonite chamber and Han and how he looked in so much pain, but the words die on her lips. 

"Sounds like Han," he says. "Still, I'm happy for you guys."

"You're not… upset?" She's surprised by that.  She expected him to feel like she was playing him to make Han jealous, like she was wasting his time, though she'd never meant to.  In truth, Luke is just as important to her as Han. She loves them both, wants them both.  It's selfish, but it's true.

"It’s war, Leia. I just want you happy. You deserve  _ so much l _ ove." Her heart all but explodes at him, at the truth in his emotions. She loves Luke. She loves him so much, it burns and she can't help but tell him. There's no time for secrets between them, not anymore.

"I love you," she murmurs against his chest. She ignores the way his body tenses under her and shifts until she can look at him face to face. "I love you,  _ too _ ," she murmurs and presses a deep kiss to his mouth, not chaste, but heavy, her tongue seeking his in a hungry, desperate act.

He sits stock still for a moment and she almost backs away, but then his hands shift lower down her back and his lips burn against hers, equally desperate. 

"What about Han?" he says, as they break for air and her hands move to pull his pants down. They've lost so much and Leia needs him, needs to show him how much she loves him, how much she cares. 

"I love you both... I want you  _ both _ ," she murmurs, knowing it's selfish, but knowing that if anyone is willing to share, it’s Luke, Luke who is always there when she needs him. Luke, who feels like she's known him her entire life. Luke, who shares her every burden without one bit of regret. "Is that going to be an issue?"

He shakes his head, his arms curled tightly around her waist. "Not as long as it's not a problem for Han," he says. His erection is an iron rod against her thigh and Leia can't help but swallow, desperate. She needs him.

"I love you, too," he says, one hand shyly grasping her zipper. It takes him a few seconds to pull it down, but he does it, and she's all too happy to step out of the puddle of her dress as it falls to the floor. She’s a goddess, a classical goddess rising  from the depths of his despair, and all he can think of is how much he can’t afford to lose her. "I need you, too, Leia."

She's thankful Han installed a door in the sleeping area of the  _ Falcon _ ; she isn't sure that Lando would understand even if she's certain Chewie would. Luke tilts his hips up and she gets his pants pulled down and thrown to the floor, his shirt following. 

"I love you," he murmurs as his hands guide her down, his mouth planting a trail of kisses across her chin, her neck, her shoulder. "I love you so much," he says, and she wants nothing more than to hold him, but he slips through her fingers, resuming a trail of kisses from her shoulder to her belly and parting her thighs. 

She can't help but cry out, wanton, as Luke's mouth broaches her slit. His mechanical hand tightens a bit too roughly across her hips but she doesn't complain especially as Luke spreads her open and stares at her, wonderment on his face. 

"Kriff," he moans. "You are so beautiful, Leia." 

She tries to keep quiet but can’t, Luke working his magic too well. He's clever though, building pressure almost immediately as his tongue then curls around her clit. When the pressure is almost too intense and just when he has her almost quaking, he diverts his attention, lathering her aching slit with affection.

"I love you," she mutters, her hand tightening through that blond mop, possessive. "I love you so much." 

His hand tightens but he makes no reply, only shifting to spread her legs further so he can fit his natural hand in between her legs, one finger gently plunging inside her as his lips focus on her clit.

She wails, loud, and Luke takes it as positive reinforcement. He adds another finger; then another, fingering her furiously in a way that finally takes her over the edge, coming so hard she sees stars.

"You - inside," she says breathlessly as Luke scrambles to her side, lying side by side with her, his face covered in her wetness and looking nothing less than desperate.   As she grabs him,  he whimpers, precome already leaking. She throws a leg over his hips and he does the rest, all too happy to bury himself in her.

She gasps and pulls him close, the feeling of being filled all that she needs in this moment. His rhythm is slow, exploratory;  _ we’ve survived _ , she says, over and over again, every touch communicating the truth:  _ they won’t take us down. Not yet. They won’t. We’re here. We’re okay. We’re alive. _

She wraps her arms around his neck, holds on for dear life; Luke pulls her closer and she feels the rhythm of their hearts as they move together. It’s funny, she thinks, how perfect he fits her; like he was made for her. They are a mated pair, or at least two-thirds of one, and she thinks of Han for one soul-piercing second before she has to wipe the memory of dark hair and darker eyes away from her eyes, because she’ll cry, and then she realizes she already is.

Luke wipes away her tears and presses a kiss so chaste and sweet to her mouth that she clings to him, shivering into starlight at the sheer tenderness of him as her orgasm takes her over the edge. 

He says nothing but follows her over the precipice within moments. She closes her eyes, lays in hideous silence with him until they both fall asleep. He is still buried inside of her, and she thinks:  _ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

She dreams in fragments, bits and pieces: Luke falling, Vader’s hand on her shoulder, Han in carbonite, Han blind and searching for her, a strange and broken Death Star exploding into space, a dark fire burning. She wakes up many times, but every time Luke just tightens his arms around her, reminding her that she’s safe.


	3. Circa Return of the Jedi

Luke slumps to the ground on Endor, sitting on the damp earth and watching what’s left of his (no, _their_ ) father burn.  Pyres aren’t the normal method to dispose of bodies on Tatooine, and something about it doesn’t feel right, but then - was Father even really from Tatooine? He doesn’t know; will likely never know. His ( _their_ ) parents’ lives are a mystery - and with Father dead, will always remain so.

He realizes, with a sad thought, that he does not even know his ( _their_ ) mother’s name.

Obi-Wan played his cards too close to his vest, and now he’ll ( _they’ll_ ) never know. He can't feel the old man anymore; his father and Yoda, too, seem to have vanished. And perhaps that is right. Perhaps it is time to let the past die. Perhaps Leia doesn’t want to know of their past, anyway, perhaps her memories of her family on Alderaan is enough.

But for Luke, his parents are a wound that bleeds. One of many.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself, runs the ( _mechanical_ ) hand over his face. He’s _not_ okay. Obi-Wan concealed too much; truths that should have been revealed years ago coming home to roost and all the people responsible are dead. He cannot blame his ( _their_ ) father, who for all his faults never knew; his ( _their_ ) mother, dead - he assumes? Father hunted him _(or is it them?)_ mercilessly, without rest; he cannot imagine Darth Vader letting the mother of his children go - unless no one told him.

His stomach churns.  Was he ( _no, were they_ ) bastards? So much unknown and so much that cannot be undone.

The snap of a stick startles him; he turns, lightsaber in his hands, prepared to find a stormtrooper who hasn't heard the Empire is dead or doesn't believe it.

Instead, Leia stands there, scrappy dress unadorned.  His sister.  His _beloved_ sister.

 _So you have a twin sister,_ Vader’s ghost whispers at the edge of his memories; _No_ , he thinks. _I have Leia._

"Hi," he says; the lightsaber goes back to its clip on his pants. He watches her move, hating the way his eyes linger on the strut of her hips, the bounce of her breasts. She is the perfect woman for him, daring and bold, but kind and sweet and passionate and they have been through _so much together_ but, somehow, by a quirk of genetics, she’s absolutely off-limits.

She sits next to him and he tries not to notice the warmth of her body against his side, not a scrap of space between them. He knows he should move a bit, make space between them, but he doesn't. His traitorous heart won't let him.

"Is that him?" she asks softly.

"Yeah," he says hoarsely. He didn't wait for her before burning him, a decision that seems churlish now. He has been focused ever since Obi-Wan had told him the sudden and so terrible truth, focused solely on the next step. What did he have to do next? Find Vader. Leave. Do the impossible.  Save his ( _their_ ) father from the dark side. Get rid of the bodies of the dead. Bury them. _Mourn._

He hasn't considered that Leia would perhaps want to see their father's face; hadn't considered how Leia might feel about father. Perhaps she, too, wanted to mourn; perhaps they should have buried their sorrows together.

But, of course, so much of him does not want to think about Leia and his ( _their, their, he has to get used to their_ ) father. Thinking about Vader being _their_ father makes his stomach heave and he wishes, so badly, that Obi-Wan had considered his feelings more important than the plan he and Yoda had concocted that never worked anyway.

"I wish I could say I'm sorry he's dead," she says, in a flat voice that bears not an ounce of anything but steel. "But I'm not."

He nods, unsure of what to say.  He loved Father from the absence of one in his life; Leia has had their father and her own beside; that doesn't bother him. He's never minded sharing.

 _Sharing_ brings other thoughts to mind, including some he’d rather keep hidden. His palms sweat and his heart hammers and he wants so badly to hold her, but he's afraid, so afraid of what she might do if he does.

She anticipates his need, her hand landing on his thigh with a jolt of electricity he does not wish to feel.  He moves away and she looks at him strangely, and his heart hurts at that, too. He hates this so much.

"Did you get to know him?" he says, his voice wavering and sad and desperate to know something - anything - that might sheer him off this path. "Him and o-our mother...?"

"No," she answers, leaning back on him. "Vader was always alone when he was on Alderaan. Dad - Bail - made sure we never really met. I thought he was just being overprotective, but - " She laughs, but there's no joy in it; like him, he's sure Leia is wondering about all the secrets in _their_ family, about all the things that _they_ should have been told years ago. "Well, I guess it was _more_ than that."

He can't stop himself from tracing her delicate fingers with his own. When she reaches out and grasps his hand, his heart beats faster even if he doesn't want it to. He wonders, for a moment, about Bail Organa. He doesn't know much more about Bail than anyone else in the Rebellion; a hero, self-sacrificing, one who left them too young, but left them with his daughter - except his daughter never really was his, and anyway, why take Leia and not him? Luke frowned; there was so much they would never know. The past was dead, and the damage was done - and, unfortunately, they were only left carrying its scars.  He can barely breathe, thinking about it; the law of nature they’d violated without even knowing. His sister, his lover - they were one and the same, and it burns, far worse than any cut he has ever endured.

He knows he should leave the Rebellion, run; he knows he should let her live her life and not be saddled with a broken brother who wants, so badly, to be something else.  His stomach turns again and Leia inches closer; she looks at him, her face inscrutable, her mouth drawn into a thin line as she dotted at his forehead with what could truly be called sisterly care.

She has Vader's eyes, he realizes, numbly, looking at her. Is this all he would see when he looked at her now? All the parts of their unknown parents, put together in strange and different shapes?

"What?" she says, then, sighing, rubs his back. "Luke, we didn't know. You can't - "

"I know now," he says. "And I wish I _didn't."_

She pauses for a moment, staring at him with her head slightly tilted - another reminder of the genes she'd inherited from the father burning not ten feet from them. He puts his head in his hands and realizes - he is shaking. No wonder Leia is worried.

 _You're a really useless brother,_ he thinks and tries to laugh, but it comes out shrill and ugly.

"Me too," she says, quietly enough that he isn’t sure he heard her right. She nuzzles up to his side, and he realizes, numbly, that she's shaking, too.

"Stop," he says, softly. "Stop shaking." His hand automatically curls up against her side, and he tries not to remember how good her hips had felt in his hands.

"This is why I hate him," she whispers, her words a virulent poison poured into his ear. Leia is a good debater - and that makes her _so much more dangerous_ right now. "He took _everything_ from me - my planet, my father, my - my Luke." She does not call him her brother; he does not know if that makes this worse, or if they've already hit rock bottom. "On Bespin - I was so scared, Luke, so scared of losing you and Han both. I can't - I can't lose you." She speaks the words into his neck, soft. "I can't - I _can't -_ _I can't_. I _won't_."

"Leia," he sighs, damn it all, and turns toward her. "I am not going to leave you. We just - We can't - " He sobs, the tears bitter and drowning out his words.  He is losing it, he thinks; the entire forest atmosphere of Endor feels charged, like it's ready to explode, and Luke just wants to throw up.

"Luke," she says, staring at him. She cradles his face in her hands. Her features crumble, and he feels the shards of his own heart shattering at the look of her, how indescribably sad she is. He can see the pieces of them both breaking apart, and then she kisses him. It is _not_ sisterly - her mouth hungry for his, her hands desperately grabbing hold of his neck and locking around him like iron bars. She's in his lap in seconds and he tries not to remember how much he loves her, even as his cock leaps into action, undaunted.

"No," he says, a tortured, low moan between kisses. He doesn't move her arms; instead, he draws her closer, pulls her into his arms. "We can't - " She pulls away a bit, breaks the kiss, lets her hands drop, her face still red and sad and oh, he can't handle her sad, doesn't want to be the cause of her pain.

"I love you," she says, her voice broken and low and he hates that he’s done this to her. "I love you _so much_ , Luke." She cries, ugly and broken, and he wants nothing more than to try to put their pieces together, but he can't, he can't, and it's killing him inside.

"I love you, too," he says, quietly. He tries to smile but he can't; he's sure he makes a grimace instead, and Leia's face falls even further, her tears cascading down her cheeks. They have always shared their burdens, but this one, somehow, is the heaviest of all.

"This isn't fair," she says, rocking against him in a way he wants, so badly, to reciprocate. "I even talked to Han about us, you know? Told him - what had happened. After Bespin."

"You should tell him everything," he murmurs, rubbing her back in small circles. There have been too many secrets, and Luke will not keep more of them. He knows, firsthand, the way they hurt others. Their family should be done with secrets now.

"He didn't mind!" she hisses. "I want you both and he understood and all I want is to go back to this morning when you and I were - when we were - "

"Shhh," he murmurs, and Leia wraps her arms around him; he wonders if Father is observing them, and hopes he isn't. His chest is hammering so hard it hurts.

"I love you!" she sobs, and he holds her close. "Can't we just - please?" She looks at him, brown eyes wet and soft and desperate. "Haven't we suffered enough? Please, can we just forget it-"

He knows the right thing to do, the Jedi thing to do. He knows he should let her go; let her run back to Han, with sad eyes; let her be comforted by a man who doesn't share unknown parents with her. But that would mean letting go of her for far more than that; that would mean letting go of his best friend, the woman he loves more than anyone else in the universe; they would be strangers, he knows, with the cold brutality of the Force coursing through his veins - and he knows it told no lies. No one could stand being friends with a sibling for whom they felt what he felt for her - and, worse, what he knew she felt for him.

He doesn't do the right thing.

His heart sinks as his hands tighten across her hips, not like a friend but like a lover. He pulls up her skirt without mercy, and she kisses him with the sweet relief that only she could bring him; she quenches the burning pain of his skin as she falls back in the grass, lets him climb on top of her and pull off the homespun dress, let that long and glorious mane fall down to her knees.

They are doomed, he knows, _doomed;_  but he cannot bear the other option, knowing what it will lead to. He would far rather suffer with her than without her.

"Luke, please," she begs, her hands moving, trying desperately to throw off the black suit he's worn from Tatooine on. _You can't go home again,_ he thinks, numbly, but then Leia proves him wrong, helping to undress him and guide him inside of her, just as she once did on Yavin a lifetime ago.

They don't talk, reduced as they are to a more primal language, the only sounds the burning crackle of Vader's pyre and the soft slap of skin on skin. He memorizes every bit of her; her scent, her skin, the way she cries out his name; the need in her as she wraps her legs around him, taking him deep.

It's wrong, he knows it's wrong, but he can't - he can't not help her, can't not make her happy. He has always sworn to give her whatever she needs and if she needs him, she will have him, as much of him as he can give her. His heart is sick and he is sick but he loves her, loves her far too much, and he has lost his father and Obi-Wan and Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen and his nameless mother and he will not lose Leia, too; she is everything, the moon and the stars, and he wants - he wants so much.

"I love you," he moans, shuddering as he comes. What would that hypothetical random stormtrooper say if he caught them? If Han caught them? Luke realizes that it doesn't matter; that he would take any and all social scorn if he could have Leia. He would fall for Leia, even if he wouldn't for his father, and that thought scares him.

"Love you, too," she says, breathless, still rolling her hips against him; they stay together until the pyre light has died out, their skin slick with the taint of their choices. When he thinks about what he has done, he feels regret, slick and hot with shame. But then she looks at him like he is her everything, and what choice does he have? He would do it again. He knows, looking at her, that they will. And they will keep one another’s secrets, too.

He presses a kiss to her lips before they return to the Rebel camp, and he watches her with jealous eyes as she goes back to Han, embracing him with a warm and open hug, and he wishes, darkly, that he didn't feel so jealous of Han for the simple twist of fate that makes them less than kin and more than kind.

He sleeps alone, dreams burning, but in the morning her hand upon his cheek wakes him up and he decides he can live with this hell.

It's so much better than the alternative.


	4. Post-War

Han Solo thumbs the wedding ring in his pocket, trying to hide his nerves.

Which is - which is ridiculous.  He's trying to meet with Luke, not a damn Rancor. Luke, the same kid from Tatooine who spent hours whining to old Ben about the force; Luke, that damn kid who he’d risked death itself to rescue on Hoth. Luke, his brother - perhaps soon to be true in a literal sense.  _ Damn _ . 

Luke’s been odd since he “got back” from Jabba's; Han knows he’s grown up some and he imagines some of that is because he’s gotten older, sure, but there’s something else there, something pressing on him, something that’s breaking him. Han’s made a career out of being observant and he can't help but notice how the kid's changed: he's thinner, doesn't laugh as much as he used to. His mouth is an eternal pinched line, and his eyes - well, Han isn't the type to write home about cerulean orbs or any of that shit, but he can see how the light's gone out of those pretty baby blues. He’s got a miserable poker face, the kid, and the look he’s been going around with for the last couple weeks - since Han could see anyway - is so fucking bleak, it’s honestly weighing on him more than proposing to Darth Vader’s daughter ever could. 

He’d thought it might have been the Vader thing; that’s a hell of a secret and it sounds like Luke has been carrying it for a while. But now, everyone the kid could possibly care about knowing knows. Kriff, it isn't like he comes from aristocracy either, and it certainly wouldn't change his personality so completely if he found out his old man had been the Emperor’s head honcho. But then again, Luke's always been more sensitive than Leia, and he's always understood the kid a bit less. Leia is hellfire and fury and a blaster pointed square in the face when she's angry - it's a bit hard to miss her highness's displeasure, and when she smiles well - it always feels like a reward, earned. He loves her, a lot. But the kid - the kid is quieter, more reserved; there're a lot more questions Han has about how to handle him, and with the Jedi stuff - it's just unnerving. But he likes Luke, honestly, he does, and the kid's blessing would mean a lot, because he's going to do something he would have considered crazy not five years ago and Luke - well, Leia needs Luke. It would make her happy for them to get along, even if it's not easy. 

It's not hard to find him; he's near his X-wing, where he usually is when they're not fighting some Imperial remnant or another. Kid must have had the most impeccably maintained speeder in Mos Espa given the overhauls he gives that temperamental X-Wing engine of his. 

He watches from the corridor for a moment; Luke is his usual self, or what passes for usual these days: sitting quietly by himself, working on cleaning out that carburetor. His eyes are peaceful for once, and Han wonders if maybe he isn't over-reacting. Maybe it's just that Luke is becoming a different kind of man than he'd expected; quieter, darker. Maybe Luke's being haunted by war - certainly wouldn't be the first one, and they've all seen shit. It's harder to deny that the Imps are humans now, for one; no Palpatines, no Vaders looming larger than life - just a bunch of scared kids. 

Han threads his finger through the ring and squeezes it briefly, for luck. And then he takes a step forward.

"Hey," he says, a neutral opening. 

Luke looks up, then down, bites his lip in a movement so small no one but a gambler would notice it. 

"You got some time to talk?" Han asks, trying to ignore the sense he isn't entirely welcome. Luke nods, puts the carburetor together with a speed Han isn't entirely sure is human, and puts it gingerly on the table. 

"C'mon, kid," he says, gingerly touching Luke on the back and steering him toward the  _ Falcon _ , a safe space for him and, he suspects, for Luke, too. 

Luke follows, amenable enough, even if his back stiffens under Han's touch. He's beginning to regret his decision not to involve Leia in this, but if he's going to be Luke's brother, he knows he's going to have to face the kid one on one eventually.

Luke moves ahead of him, with a familiarity toward his ship that's almost charming. He heads toward the mini-fridge Han keeps near the Dejarik table but he shakes his head. 

"C'mon; I gotta show you something," he says, his cheeks turning warm. He's not a man prone to blushing, but he's not a man prone to romantic gestures either, and this is definitively that. "Follow me."

"Okay," Luke says, shrugging. 

He takes Luke to the new kitchenette he's added to the  _ Falcon _ ; not much, a caf machine, a camp stove, a bigger fridge. But for him, it means more than just a place to have a few badly cooked meals. It's domestic, from a man who never did domestic, and he hopes the kid - and his sister - realize how serious he is.

Luke raises his eyebrows and whistles. "This is new." And then he does - nothing. He keeps his hands both folded neatly as he looks around him, his expression betraying nothing. This is the part of the kid that he hates, but he shakes his head and keeps trying. 

"Yeah, it's uh, I was thinking it could be a wedding present." He lets it drop, and Luke looks at him, eyes widening; for once, he's sure he's gotten a true reaction out of him, and then he goes stiff, for just a moment, but a moment Han notices - but then this new Luke melts into the old one, a familiar smile crossing his face. Before he knows it, Luke is curled around him, wrapping him in a fierce hug.

"Oh, Han, you're gonna make her so happy. I know it," he says; a shadow of that hidden strife crosses Luke's eyes again, in a way he can't quite make out, but it's gone too quickly to comment on. "Have you asked yet?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. He pats Luke on the shoulder and sits in one of the three seats he's procured for the  _ Falcon's _ new addition - a purposefully chosen number. "Wanted to get your blessing."

Luke looks at him like he doesn't understand; one eyebrow raised in a way that seems almost - protective? He isn't sure what to call it, but again, the look vanishes back into a placid, calm face that Han kind of wants to punch just to make the kid actually express himself again. Luke shakes his head. 

"I appreciate the thought but - Leia's a grown woman. She doesn't need my approval."

Han shakes his head. "Kid, it's  _ me  _ who needs the approval."

"What?" Luke looks up at him, still calm.  _ Damn Jedi. _

“Look," Han says.  “I know you and your sister are…” He trails off into an awkward silence, unsure what to say. He isn't an emotional man and he's damn well sure there aren't many men who could make th _ e so-we-both-slept-with-my-girl-but-it-turned-out-you're-her-brother _ less awkward. He turns away a moment, grabs a bit of the nice stuff he's kept on the top shelf and pours out a shot for Luke, slides it over to him.

Luke, damn him, doesn't offer anything to make this maybe a _bit_ less awkward. His expression only changes in that he slides on eyebrow up, but is otherwise the same; same damn unreadable face. He takes the shot and drinks it, and his hands don't even shake.  

"Special," Han finishes, clearing his throat. "You're important to both of us, and I just - I don't want you to feel like..." He looks down and pours himself a drink, sighs, and downs it, the burn cleansing in its own way.  "You've always got a place at our table, you know that?"

"I do," he says, in such a quiet voice Han isn't quite sure if Luke said it or if Han just wanted to hear it badly enough to fantasize he did. He grabs the whiskey bottle and pours himself another, and Han is surprised - the kid had been a bit of a lightweight a few years ago. How things change.

"Oh, good, good." Han reaches across the table. "I just - look, if it wasn't for the whole siblings thing, I know that this-this whole conversation would have been - "

" _ Different _ ," Luke says, and Han hears the hard edge than Luke has been trying so hard to hide. So - that's it. Han leans in and grabs his hand.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend I understand what you're going through, but - " Han clears his throat. "I'm here for you if you want to talk, okay?"

"I don't, but thank you," Luke says, leaning over and clasping Han's shoulder. "You really will make her happy, Han. I've no doubt of that." 

"So you're not...bothered?" He pulls out the ring and hands it to Luke, who stares. It isn't huge or ostentatious; just two stones, both blue, one a bit cloudier than the other. Luke hadn't ever seen Alderaan or Corellia but he might recognize them in Han's miniature attempt to bring them together. He watches the kid's hands as he plays with it, before he nods and hands it back.

"She'll like it," Luke says, in a flat, hollow voice.  

"Like I said, if things hadn't been the way they are," Han squeezes Luke's hand. "I would never have minded, uh, - shar-" _Kriff_ , he sighs. This is so hard, and he has to remind himself that he has to try - it's for Leia. They _both_ have to try for her.  

"I know you wouldn't." Luke tilts the whiskey his way, offering him another; Han takes a second shot for Corellian luck and stands up. "And I'm glad you'll take care of her."

"Alright, kid," he says, "Let's do this thing." 

He opens his jacket, pulls out his comlink, and presses Leia's audio-link before he can change his mind. "Hey, sweetheart, come over to the  _ Falcon _ , would ya? Luke and I got something to show you."

"Okay," Leia's voice filters in, sounding amused. 

"You sure you want me here?" Luke looks up at him, a bit glassy-eyed; good, maybe the kid's tolerance isn't so different from back Before.

"Luke, she wouldn't want you anywhere else." Han reaches out and claps him on the back. "You're family." 

Luke winces, and Han stares for a moment before the words caught up to him - _fuck_ \- but before he can apologize, he hears a familiar knock on the old girl's door. Leia, rescuing him again. 

"Hello?" Leia's voice said, gently tapping on the door. Han shoots Luke a thumbs up and winks, trying desperately to get back to their old routine; Luke winks back, or maybe winces, but Han feels terrified enough he is going to give Luke the benefit of the doubt. He needs all the support he can get. 

He leaves Luke still sitting on the table, and tromps down the main hallway of the  _ Falcon _ , all smiles to his beloved. Leia is there, radiant as usual, her hair tied back in a bun.  

"What's going on, Han?" she says, her eyes darting around. Clever minx, she misses nothing, but he's clever, too - nothing different here. 

Han holds out a hand and swallows, the little speech he made all but annihilated by his nerves. "Just - come with me, okay?"

"Okay," she says, putting her hand in his. He pulls her fast, wanting to get the part he is dreading out of the way. 

"Luke," she says, tilting her head as they burst into the kitchenette. Luke raises his shot glass - had he really poured himself another? Kriff, it was a good thing he was a general and could actually replace the good stuff now. "What are you doing here?"

Luke gestures toward Han but says nothing, in yet another demonstration of the new Luke. 

She turns away from Luke, her eyes widening as she scans the room, noticing the new appliances. "Wait - What is this?"

"Trying to make the  _ Falcon _ a bit more homey, Your Grace." He drops to a knee, fumbling hands going through his pockets to reproduce the ring. Leia sucks in a breath and stares down at him; he gamely does his best to keep his eyes on her, though he can see Luke watching keenly out of the corner of his eye. "I thought - maybe it was time to make things here a bit more domestic. Bake you eggs in the morning, you know?"

"You fry eggs, Han," she says with a smile; she glances toward Luke, and the kid nods just a fraction of an inch before she turns back to him. This, too, is new and odd - but he doesn't have time to dwell on it. He is merely relieved he has somehow earned both their approvals.  

"You can do a lot of things with eggs," he snorts, then lets it drop. "Anyway, the point is - ah hell, sweetheart. What do you say we tie the knot and make this old girl home sweet home? This old Jalopy might have a bit of rust but - its got it where it counts. And I've - I'll do anything in my power to make you happy, Princess."

"Han," she says, softly. " _ Of course _ ." 

The relief that he feels flooding through his system is overwhelming. He stands up on wobbly legs and tries to slide into a chair at the table gracefully. Leia gingerly takes the last remaining seat and slides the ring on her finger; Luke taps her shoulder and she smiles and for a moment, Han feels blissfully happy. 

Chewie, he thinks, is gonna be thrilled to hear the news.  

"So, now that that's done with," he says, and if his voice breaks a bit neither of the twins is rude enough to point it out. He uncaps the bottle and pours himself a third, and Leia, her first. "Let's celebrate."

He sips at it, the urge to down his liquor quickly gone, now that things have gone the way he wants them to.

Leia slides hers back toward him and he raises an eyebrow. Luke, he notices, leans forward too. Something is up, no doubt; and they're both all ears. 

"I have news too," she says, sucking in a breath. Uh oh - Leia nervous can only mean one thing - _big_ news. 

"I was going to wait until later to tell you but - " she reaches out both her hands, one grabbing his, one grabbing Luke's. She says nothing for a minute, looking down at the table, and then looks up at Han, smiling. "I'm pregnant."

"You're wha-what?" Han says, almost speechless. 

"Pregnant," she says; she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a data pad; he doesn't need to read it to know what it's a print out of. "About six weeks. Since - Since Endor."

Luke, who Han has just realized had been silent the entire time, grabs Leia's whiskey and downs it in one go. Han doesn't comment on it, too focused on the new minefield that's just opened up all around him. 

"You mean I'm gonna - be a dad?" He tries to imagine it; can’t. Force, he hopes the kid takes after Leia.

"Yep," she says, smiling; there was something not quite entirely happy in her smile, more - worried, perhaps - but Han can barely focus on that. Him - a dad. A dad. 

"Holy _kriffing_ bantha shit," he says, out loud. Luke murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like  _ tell me about it _ , and Han grins. "Can I go tell Chewie?" 

"Yeah." She nods. "Of course."

He starts to dial Chewie on his comlink, but his eyes catch Luke's face - pale, unfocused - and decides perhaps it would be better to take the call in another room.  "I'll be right back," he says, squeezing Leia's shoulder.

"No, I think I should - I should go," Luke says, shoving past them both. 

"Kid - "

"I'm sorry," Luke says. Luke doesn't bother to turn around. Kriff, he can't imagine what the kid's going through. He knows it hurts, seeing Leia move on so fast, and he is sorry it hurts Luke, but - he is also thrilled.  _ Stars, a kid... _

Leia looks up at him and, without a word, gets up to go after her brother. Han’s heart twists, but he says nothing - he lets her go. He knows he could never come between them, wouldn't want to, but - he would like to at least be consulted. Still. He can talk to Leia about that. Hopefully, Leia will chase down the kid and reassure him that being an uncle isn't going to be the end of the world or their friendship. 

Until then, well, Han will celebrate by himself, then he'll call Chewie and celebrate with him, too. Han pours himself another, raising his glass skyward in a wordless toast, then immediately starts trying to think of baby names.

Luke, come to think of it, has a pretty good ring to it.


	5. Pre-War

The truth is that what they say about hell is true, Leia thinks, looking at Amilyn's face. It really does feel like she's being damned with the best of intentions.

Amilyn is looking at her like she's lost her mind for suggesting that maybe, maybe they should get together for dinner - and maybe she could talk to Luke, see if perhaps they hit it off, and would want to go out again sometime. She may as well have asked Amilyn if she would, perhaps, resurrect Palpatine from the dead and marry him, judging by the disgust on her face.  

"Look, I'm sure your brother is a nice man, but - well, humanoid male isn't generally in my wheelhouse," Amilyn says; the now admiral Holdo sits with her hands delicately folded, looking like nothing so much as a lady. Leia tries to tone down the defensive feelings she has for Luke, who is far more than just some humanoid male. Shouting at Amilyn will get her nowhere.

"Luke's more than that." Leia rolls her eyes. "He's a hero from the old days, knows more about ships than either of us, and he's great - really great - with kids, but he'd never blame you for putting the Republic first."

That produces a lump in her throat; truth is, that's part of the reason she's relieved that Luke is coming home, because she needs him with Ben now more than ever.  Trying to calm down a Force-sensitive kid is more trying than she'd ever expected, and she can only hope Luke is as good with Ben as he's been with her. 

Even Han, she knows, is close to exasperated with Ben.  But it's easier for him to play the good guy when he's been on the road so much and Leia is scared how Ben might be when he doesn't have a fantasy father to pretend is on his side.

Amilyn's face softens after a moment. "Alright, but only if you're not offended if… things don't develop." 

"Of course not," Leia says, folding her arms. Truth is, she can't but feel like she'd be extraordinarily lucky if Luke notices Amilyn Holdo at all.

He's disappeared more and more into himself, lately, and it scares her. He's gone, more often, on missions now - that's a bit inevitable given his role in the Republic, but - when he is here, he's so -  _ quiet _ . She rarely sees the old Luke anymore, only when they're alone, when he smiles as his soft beard brushes against her shoulder and then - lower...

She shakes her head. "Luke just - I want him to be happy, and I want you to be happy. I think you'd get along, that's all." 

"Alright." She says, standing. "Tonight? What time?"

She tells her, then pulls up her holocom.  _ One down, one to go.  _

\---

Luke stares at her from his cockpit as if she'd grown another head and she feels herself internally writhing against that thousand parsec stare.

"Leia… a blind date?  _ Really _ ?" He cocks his head as if the entire idea her middle-aged brother  _ might want some companionship _ is utterly alien. 

"Calm down. It's just dinner."

"Leia I don't need help getting a date." Luke sighs and she wants, so badly, to throttle him. _ You don't act like it _ , she wants to say; Luke's never even gone on a date as far as she knows.  

"Look, it's no big deal. If anything I'm doing you a favor." She looks down, uncomfortable. "Ben's been terrifying lately. You'll want something to focus on that's not him." 

"Teenage angst?" Luke stares back at her, a sympathetic grimace on his face. Luke, even more so than Han, has always been her confidant. 

"Worse." She rolls her eyes. "He's livid I won't let him quit school to go race with his father." 

Luke raises his eyebrows and she smiles. Luke has always understood her. "That was an option?"

"Not one I told him," she says. She plays with her wedding ring,  fidgeting; sometimes, she and Han have radically different ideas over what is appropriate for Ben and it scares her how little Ben seems to want her interest, how hungry he is for Han's approval.

Luke, she knows, would never be so alien to her but… Ben is, decidedly, not his child. 

"I'm coming in ahead of schedule," he says, softly clicking switches to modify his ascent; he is early, already on Coruscant time. "Should be at your apartment in ten."

She blushes, knowing full well what he's thinking and knowing full well that she wants to go to him, too. For all the effort she puts in with Luke, the truth is: she still wants him. And she knows damn well that it will doom them both. 

"I'll head over," she says; her voice is husky and he smiles, presses his hand to his lips and waves outward to her.

He shimmers and disappears and Leia watches until he's gone, then packs up and scurries over to the small apartment she calls home. 

She swallows the all too frequent burbling of guilt in her belly as she pulls into Han's speeder space. She covers up her hair; not that she suspects anyone would think she was doing anything  _ sordid _ ... but there's something so illicit about what they're doing that she can't help but try to hide. 

She sees Luke's familiar speeder, fresh from the spaceport, and her stomach tightens in anticipation. He's already inside, no doubt; he has made good use of the key she long ago gave him. 

She walks to her door resolutely, even if her knees feel like jelly. It's wrong, she knows, the whole thing is wrong, but she can't help but need him, and the need just grows stronger with every step. By the time she opens her door, she's all but burning, burning for him. 

It's the same for Luke, she knows, who corners her, looks at her like a starving man. He pulls her inside, and he's barely locked the door before he's all over her, pinning her against it with his hips while his beard scratches against her lips between kisses. 

"Missed you," he says softly. He tenderly thumbs her breast, his fingers teasing lightly,  _ lightly _ . 

"You're going to spoil the date with Amilyn," Leia says, trying but failing to do what is best for Luke and not what she wants to do. 

"I - " She catches the bob of his Adam's apple as he lowers his eyes. "I don't want a date with Amilyn, Leia. I don't want a date with  _ anyone _ ."

"You can't - " She tries to say, but he kisses the words away from her, words like _ I don't want to leave you alone _ , words like  _ you need someone beside me _ . He doesn't want to listen, she knows, and she doesn't want to say it, but still. "Luke, listen, don't you want a family of your own?"

"I  _ have  _ a family," he says, stroking her cheek. "You, and my nephew, and Han. I don't need, or  _ want _ , anything more than that." 

It isn't right, she thinks, but nothing about this is. 

"Please," she says, her voice almost breaking as Luke nips lightly at her ears and makes her knees almost buckle. "Can you just -  _ try _ ?"

She glances toward the chronometer and Luke notices. 

"How long?" he asks, voice strained; time constants are nothing new in their affair - between Han and Ben's comings and goings, they've both gotten good at timing this - but she can tell it bothers him, that he wants to spend time luxuriously making love, the way they had when they were young and could spent all night sating one another.

"Ben's last class ends in half an hour," she whispers, kissing him in apology. He makes an almost poetic whimper before setting her down on the bed. 

She pulls off her own clothing, hears the shift of robes that suggests he is doing the same, along with the crinkle of cellophane;  its been the rule since - since  _ Ben  _ \- that Luke brings protection. 

He sits next to her, wordlessly holding out a condom. 

"I can try," he says, sadly. "But - " 

"It won't be  _ this _ , I know." She smiles and kisses him, but there's a melancholy between them. They both know no matter who Luke chooses as a mate - if he takes one - their relationship will be based on lies or cruelties or burdens, just like Leia's. Han has long turned a blind eye to them; Ben, she hopes, will never know of their curse, will never know of any of this. Theirs is a blood curse; they can only pray that Ben will be spared it through ignorance, if nothing else. Their burdens are not and  _ will not  _ be his.

He may hate her for it, but she will give him the only freedom she can. 

But she? She is bound. Luke's smile is sad as she presses him down onto the bed, even as she brings them together for the first time in months. 

He hisses; it's been a long time for them both. She's not quite prepared to handle his girth, not after so many months apart. The stretch hurts, but Luke knows well enough to wait for her to move. 

She wiggles her hips, ignoring the stab of pain; they don't have time and they both know it. 

Luke doesn't move, still staring up at her, his mouth a little slack. He's always looked up at her like a Goddess, and the older she gets, the more self-conscious she's become of it. Han has always loved her, but Luke - Luke worships her, and it scares her as much as it thrills her. She wants nothing more than to have them both forever. Their burdens have been shared, since Yavin; they will be shared until neither of their hearts beat. 

They are both, she realizes, very sad, in their own ways. 

She squeezes him tight and leans down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Hey."

"Sorry," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her and trapping her right against him; skin on skin. She knows he's apologizing for more than just a minor blip in his attention.

"Me, too," she whimpers, and Luke, gentle as ever, moves inside her, each stroke timed to fill, to pleasure. "Me, too."

She is sorry for many things; sorry that Luke will never have his own sons or daughters; sorry, in some ways, that her son is not his. She is sorry for fifteen years of lies, she is sorry for _ oh so many _ years of hidden truths. She is, she thinks, so sorry that she would do anything for Luke - except, ultimately, walk away from him. 

The arms that wrap around her back with a desperate passion tell her he isn't walking away from her either. 

_ I won't leave you _ , he thinks at her, so furiously; she isn't sure if he's intentionally broadcasting or just thinking, but she answers, as best she can _ ; I know, I know, I won't leave you, either. _ The same message, blaring back and forth in the discrete silence that has become their hallmark. 

They don't say anything else, daring only to take twenty minutes to make love to one another. For twenty minutes, she is Luke's and Luke's alone.  Then they each silently redress, Luke helping her redo her hair so her son doesn't suspect his mother loves his uncle in such a scandalous way. 

They are, she knows, nearly out of time.

She can feel Ben coming home now; She feels him from blocks away, the crackle of his displeasure, his anger, in the air. The feeling reminds her of Vader, of the total, weighty domination of the atmosphere, how it feels like standing in a field with a storm rolling in, the heaviness of being trapped under the burden of his fury.

_ "And now, Princess, we will discuss the location of your rebel base..." _ A long dead ghost whispers in her mind; she shivers. No. Ben is  _ not  _ Vader; Ben will  _ never  _ be like him. She will fight with every last motherly instinct she has to prevent that. 

Luke feels it, too, she knows; he raises his eyebrows and she grabs him in a hug. Luke curls his arms around her and presses a quick kiss to her head, and the relief of it is palpable. She wishes, for one brief moment, that he came around more often, though she understands why he does not. 

"I love you, you know," Luke murmurs, risking one last kiss as he pins up the final plait of her braid.  

And, like a ghost of a far simpler past, she answers:

"I know. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Spookykingdomstarlight for beta'ing so much of my madness!


End file.
